


Moving On

by alpacamyhedgehog



Category: Forever (TV)
Genre: Breaking and Entering, Comfort, F/M, Fluff, Grief/Mourning, Guns
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-20
Updated: 2015-09-20
Packaged: 2018-04-22 11:30:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,837
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4833728
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alpacamyhedgehog/pseuds/alpacamyhedgehog
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jo is getting ready to move to a new apartment, but when she wakes up on moving day, she's greeted by some unexpected visitors.</p>
<p>This was written for the Henry's 236th Birthday Exchange for superlc529, who requested Mortinez fluff + Abe.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Moving On

**Author's Note:**

  * For [superlc529](https://archiveofourown.org/users/superlc529/gifts).



Jo Martinez had been sleeping too soundly—and after living on her own for so long, she should have known better. Blame it on the stress of her upcoming move, or maybe the pressures of detective work were beginning to take their toll on her. Either way, she should have heard the front door open and the distinctive creaking of heavy footsteps.

 

What she did hear was a hair-raising metallic clatter coming from the first floor of her townhouse.

 

Startled, she leaped out of bed and reached for her gun, losing no time in slipping silently out of her room and down the stairs. She knew if she stopped to think about what she was doing, she would lose her nerve; years of detective work may have desensitized her to pursuing criminals with a loaded gun, but confronting an intruder in her own home was a completely different matter.

 

She paused at the bottom of the steps and listened. The racket had quieted substantially, but there was still an occasional muffled rattling coming from the kitchen—could that be the sound of pots and pans?—and as she crept closer, she heard low, indistinguishable voices.

 

Without hesitation, she burst into the kitchen, gripping her gun.

 

“Freeze! NYPD,” she yelled instinctively.

 

Standing in the middle of her kitchen, surrounded by a mess of pots and pans and a few broken dishes were…Henry and Abe?

 

“What are you two doing here? I could have shot you,” she almost squeaked, lowering her gun and running a hand through her hair with exasperation.

 

“We’re here to help you move as we agreed upon, remember?” Henry prompted. He seemed only a little flustered by her abrupt arrival, but he was slightly pink around the ears. She suddenly remembered that she was wearing a nightgown and felt a little self-conscious.

 

 “I told you we shouldn’t have come so early,” Abe said to Henry before shrugging apologetically toward Jo. “It’s all Henry’s fault. We thought it would be a great idea to have breakfast before starting work. I wanted to bring pancakes from home, but he insisted it would be simpler to make them here.”

 

“You broke into my house…to make pancakes?” Jo sank against a nearby counter for support. It was too early on a Saturday morning for this.

 

“Well…yes?” Henry suddenly looked sheepish. It was thoroughly satisfying to see him doubt one of his own decisions, and, Jo had to admit, an ashamed Henry was actually kind of cute.

 

She rolled her eyes with only partly genuine exasperation. “I’m not sure whether to be more upset that you broke into my house or that you unpacked several boxes of kitchen things that I spent several hours packing last night.”

 

Abe grinned, sensing her change of mood. “Then don’t be angry! We’ll make you breakfast to make up for it.”

 

“Okay, fine,” she said with a mock sigh. “I’ll go change. You make pancakes.”

 

She began leaving the kitchen, but just as she reached the doorway, she stabbed a finger in Henry and Abe’s direction and said, “Both of you are cleaning and packing up those dishes when we’re done. You hear me?”

 

“I assure you, Jo—” Henry began before Abe interrupted him with a salute.

 

“Loud and clear, ma’am!” Abe finished cheerily, prodding Henry into picking up a few more pots from the floor.

 

Once she was back upstairs, Jo grimaced at her reflection in her bathroom mirror before putting on her clothes for the day. Bed head, morning breath… Part of her felt ashamed at having been caught at such a bad time, but she also thought it served Henry right for breaking into her house on a Saturday morning. At least her nightgown covered all the important parts, and she didn’t sleep in the nude like _some_ people she could think of.

 

Feeling a little smug with herself for that thought, she finger-combed her hair and grinned at herself in the mirror.

 

Several minutes later, she found herself sitting at the kitchen table with Henry and Abe, eating the best pancakes she could remember having.

 

Each time she had interacted with Henry and Abe before, she’d noticed how close the two were. Listening to them talk, she almost got the impression that they had known each other their whole lives.

 

But for the first time, Jo felt as if she could fit naturally into their conversations. She and Henry retold stories of some of their cases together, while Abe brought them up-to-date on his latest genealogy project and couldn’t resist talking at length about some of his greatest antiques deals as Henry rolled his eyes. Maybe she had finally spent enough time with Henry to feel comfortable around him and his roommate. Maybe they felt more comfortable with her after spending more time at her place. Or maybe it was something else…

 

Whatever the case, they spent almost two hours eating breakfast and cleaning up the kitchen before Jo remembered that they had work to do.

 

“Hey,” she said to Abe, who was drying the last of the dishes, “I don’t know if Henry told you, but I have some furniture you might be interested in. Actually, a lot of furniture. It was Sean’s, but I won’t have room for it at my new place.”

 

Abe gave the plate a finishing touch with the dishcloth before replying. “Oh? I’d be glad to take a look. I wouldn’t want to buy any family heirlooms, though. If you’re undecided about anything, I could store it for you until you know you won’t want it.”

 

Jo smiled. “Thanks, but I’ve already made up my mind. This whole move is about starting over, and I figured it would be best to pass these things along so someone else can enjoy them. My husband was always more of an antiques lover than I was, anyway.”

 

“Won’t you need some of these things in your new apartment?” Henry asked, then added, “Besides, after hearing Abe’s stories about swindling half the city of its antique furniture, I’m surprised you’d want to sell him anything!”

 

They all laughed.

 

“Nah,” Jo replied. “I don’t need much. If I find myself short of a table or chair or something, I can always pick one up at Ik—”

 

Henry shushed her with a raised hand. “Don’t say it; you’ll send Abraham into a fit over the evils of mass-produced Swedish furniture.”

 

When Jo looked at Abe for confirmation, he shrugged and tossed the dishcloth over his shoulder. “He’s right. And you really don’t want to hang around listening to me rant about modern furniture all day. Let’s take a look at what you have!”

 

As the day wore on, Jo found herself loading more of her furniture into Abe’s van than into the moving van she’d rented, but this was mostly due to her insistence. He was giving her a good price for them, and besides, it would be good to start over. A new house, new furnishings. It would be almost like having a new life. After spending so long living in the shadows of her life with Sean, she had to admit that she was still a little afraid of moving on, but she knew it was best for her.

 

“Where’s Henry?” Jo asked Abe as they finished loading her reclining chair into the moving van. “I haven’t seen him for the last hour or so.”

 

“Hmm, last I saw he was going to pack up some books. Better go check on him and make sure the bookcase hasn’t fallen on top of him—I’ll finish up here.”

 

Sure enough, Jo found him surrounded by a pile of books and several empty boxes. He was so absorbed in the book he was reading that he didn’t hear her approach.

 

She stood for a while, studying him. It was a rare moment when she had the chance to observe this strange man without being preoccupied with the details of a case herself, so she could hardly pass up the opportunity. The way his careful, elegant hands cradled the old book and cautiously turned the pages, the way his intense gaze focused on every word, missing nothing, reminded her of how much she admired his passion and skill. Sure, he could be obnoxious—like this morning—but at the end of the day, she had to admit how much she liked having him in her life.

 

She sat down cross-legged in front of him, and he jumped with surprise.

 

“Slacking off, are you?” she teased.

 

“Ah—I was trying to guess which books you wanted to keep, and I suppose I got distracted.”

 

“Oh, well these were Sean’s books. I was going to see if Abe wanted them, but he said he doesn’t sell old books if he can help it. Here, let me help.” She started placing books in the boxes.

 

“Yes, that’s partly because he knows that I’ll keep him from selling the books if I can. I enjoy them too much,” Henry joked, still holding the book in his hand. He’d closed it by now, and from the spine Jo could see that it was some sort of old medical manual.

 

“Your late husband had excellent taste in literature,” he continued. “Some of these are quite rare.”

 

Jo found herself smiling in spite of herself. “He had a knack for finding them in odd places. Thrift shops, library sales, in boxes sitting out for trash pickup. He found this one,” she said, tapping the cover of the one he was holding, “in this house when we moved in.”

 

“You should keep them, then.” He held out the book to her. “Forgive me, but I’m more of a sentimentalist than you are. I believe in holding on to the past—perhaps more than is healthy or wise. Still, sometimes it is good to remind yourself of the people you loved, even as you move forward with your life.”

 

“Wise words as ever, Dr. Morgan.”

 

As she reached out to take the book, her hand brushed his fingers, and she felt a rush of emotion that she couldn’t quite describe. She felt as if everything old and familiar about her life had suddenly burst into new opportunities and adventures. Suddenly, somehow, she felt confident that the old would give her the courage to embrace the new.

 

“Yes,” she spoke again, decisively. “I will keep the books. But you should keep this one, if you want it.” She placed the medical manual firmly into his hands again.

 

“If—if you insist.” His voice was hesitant, but he instinctively brushed the cover as he held the book.

 

“Yes, I do,” she said. “I’m moving on, slowly but surely.”

 

When he smiled in reply, it seemed as if something new and brilliant began to blossom before her. She knew that when the time came to meet it, she would be supported by the memories she chose to keep from her past and the hope she would kindle for the future.


End file.
